Serendipity
by The Marauder Lady
Summary: Dancing. It sounds easy, right? Just move your arms here and there, take a few steps, probably move your butt and jiggle your chest. Easy. Simple. Not quite. {Dancer!Jily AU}


**Hello there! Welcome to my brand new Dancer!Jily AU story.**

 **So before this starts, I just want a few things to be clear:**

 **1) I've done some research but if you're a dancer, and if you think what I've written is not factually correct, please tell me.**

 **2) All the names of the dance companies used here are fictional and made up.**

 **3) I've tried to keep James and Lily in character as much as possible. If you think they're OOC, please bear with me or tell me. But since, it's an AU, variations in character development might take place.**

 **4) Might add in smut later. Just so you know...**

 **I really, really hope you like it. Enjoy!**

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 **Chapter 1**

The studio was filled with sunlight and a lovely fragrance of sweat and room-freshener when I entered it. The smell in particular was overwhelming; it was my favourite odour in the world. A paradox of odours; one of hard work, diligence and nearing-perfection while the other was of performance, prowess and like a beautiful, silk shroud, it covered the gory effects of dancing.

I had already gone through all the paperwork and other legal things that needed to be done before I could walk through the threshold and enter my new home; the studio. Well, it was to be my new home, where I could work, worship, persevere and stay (for most part of the day). Moreover, it was a place where I would be able to do what my heart likes to do best - dance. Here, I could dance all day long without paying attention to any of the essentials or necessities. Here, I could be the person I am.

After closing the tiny black door behind me, I made my way to a corner of the room where I deposited my bag and sat down to get ready for the class. While taking off my shoes, I looked around and saw a few people gazing at their reflections in the mirror and warming up. Like most dance studios, the room was humongous, wooden floored with silver barres on the sides and mirrors on all the walls with the exception of the back one. Instead, the back wall was a ceiling - to - floor window from which a beautiful view of London's skyline was visible.

It was majestic; the people dancing within were more so. Each with a unique grace plied, stretched down, stretched up and relevéd. Oblivious to me watching them, they repeated the process again and again- each time with greater precision and flow.

Trying to focus on the task at hand and not to get lost in the beauty of the other dancers, I took in a deep breath of the contagiously tranquilizing atmosphere and un-buttoned my shirt to reveal my black leotard. I dug out my jazz-pants from my bag, pulled it on under my skirt before sliding the latter down. Satisfied with my dance attire, I did my frustratingly wavy, dark red hair into a bun; tying it as tight as possible, not letting a strand out of its hold. Finally, I took out my skin-coloured foot thongs from my bag and leaned against the wall to pull them onto my feet.

As I did so, I saw two boys and a girl of roughly the same age as I enter the studio. The girl had short blonde hair that gracefully cupped her face and her posture showed that she did ballet. The boys looked, somehow, reckless. Both had black hair and both laughed carelessly. The girl just rolled her eyes and shoved one of them away from her.

They were already in their dance attire and making their way to the center of the room when the girl suddenly looked at me and smiled.

I smiled back.

"Are you Lily Evans? The new girl?" she asked while walking towards me.

I nodded.

"I'm Marlene." She gave me a small hug, catching me by surprise. "Welcome to _British National Dance Centre!"_

"Thanks!" I smiled. It felt nice.

The movement behind her caught my eyes and I saw the other two boys walking towards us. They were pointedly looking towards another dancer in the front while snickering and wiggling their eyebrows - most probably making fun of her.

 _How rude_ , I thought.

Ignoring them, I smiled and said, "This place looks great!"

"I'm sure it's not better than _Alvin Klien!"_ Marlene said, giving me a knowing look.

"How do you know that I am from Alvin Klien?"

"I stalked you day and night, bugged your house, tortured your mom and dad into giving me some information about you. That's all." She grinned.

"Umm?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not a creep," she chuckled, "I'm taking care of the registration for this month, so I just accidently read your forms. Your resume seemed like my dream bucket list."

I laughed. "It's not that great."

"Are you kidding me?" Her eyes widened, "Graduated with a Masters of Fine Art degree from Alvin Klien, workshops under Michael Flitz and Safiya Naes, 10 stage shows, two of them at the Lincoln Centre, New York City. That's bloody grand!"

"What's bloody grand?" One of the boys asked. They stood beside Marlene; one on each side.

"This woman's resume!" Marlene exclaimed.

"How?"

Marlene repeated everything again, making me blush to the core. My resume wasn't all that much, not as much as I hoped to do, at least.

Once she was finished, the boys looked at me incredulously.

"So, she's pretty and talented!"

"Wow."

"Not really," I said meekly.

The boy on Marlene's left, the one with the glasses was looking at my leotard. I consciously pulled my leotard up by the strap and prayed that nothing was spilt on it. The boy brushed his hair with his hand and said, "Marlene, won't you introduce us to this very talented beauty?"

"Shut up, James. This is not the nineteenth century. Do it yourself."

I blushed more. _God! Why was I blushing so much?! I've never blushed this much before._

"I'm Sirius," The boy on Marlene's right said. He extended his hand out in a very dramatic manner. "Black. Sirius Black."

I laughed and shook his hand. "I'm Lily."

Marlene rolled her eyes and the boy on her left slapped Sirius' head.

"Do that one more time, and you're dead." The bespectacled boy said in mock anger.

"And I'll help." Marlene said while laughing.

I laughed along.

The other boy then extended his hand forward. "I'm James Potter. Let's go out sometime, yes?"

"I'll think about it," I said, shaking his hand but not making any eye contact. _With that arrogant ego of yours? Nuh-uh._

Marlene nervously laughed and lightly punched James's arm. "Stop toying with her, James. Scaring her away won't be good."

"Definitely not," I muttered under my breath.

"I agree, Evans," James said, mimicking a fake pout.

I rolled my eyes.

"Come on guys, class is going to start," Sirius said, leading Marlene away to the dancing area.

James stayed back and waited for me. I ignored him and took my place somewhere in the center. From the corner of my eyes, I saw him take his place behind me, just before the window. _I hope he falls out of the sodding window,_ I thought instinctively before scolding myself for doing so.

Focusing on my reflection in the mirror, I started to warm up. I started with the basic roll-downs, did a few plies, a few isolations, a few combinations and a bit of Horton combinations. After stretching my head from right to left, I started practicing pirouettes. One. Two. Three. Four. Satisfaction oozed through me at the end of doing five pirouettes in one go. Not only that, everyone in the studio erupted in an applause and a few even gaped at me. I blushed and bowed, smiling. Marlene gave me a thumbs up, Sirius looked annoyed and James grinned, mouthing 'Not bad, Evans.'

I gave him a smug smile and turned my attention back towards warming up.

Soon, the class started. When our teacher introduced me to the rest of the class, they cheered and applauded again. I obviously blushed. The class was simple enough, though it wasn't the same as how classes were in _Alvin Klien_.

Alvin Klien, New York, was one of the top dance institutes in the world. There, the classes were competitive and distant; all trying to pursue their personal goals - be it technique, sharpness or feeling. Everyone strived for _themselves_. However, here, the class was more intimate. People helped each other out and the teacher was as helpful as ever. Though strict, Miss. McGonagall, was an expert in her field and as graceful as a falling snowflake.

Although I'd hate to admit it but the fun part of the class was James Potter. He'd crack jokes and deliberately try to ruin a step just to piss McGonagall off. He'd make weird noises, trying to match the music and sometimes even start singing. Unlike anything I'd ever seen, he'd start dancing on his own or with Sirius or just do some abstract, stupid step whenever he would loose his musicality or forget something. Unlike any ordinary person, who would curse or beat themselves up for messing up a routine, he'd laugh at it and do his own weird dance. Frustratingly, at the end of the day, he had even managed to get the routine, perform it perfectly and earn praise from McGonagall. _How unfair!_

"Very Good, Mr. Potter." McGonagall had nodded in his direction and quickly resumed her inspection of others' dance routines. James Potter achieved the seemingly impossible task that other dancers were actually working their behinds off to earn. That too, effortlessly. You might think that McGonagall was biased towards him but that clearly was not the case. In fact, Potter did manage to perform the routine with absolute precision, the required amount of feeling and energy. He also made it interesting by delaying his steps at the right moment to beautifully match the music or sometimes he would even add in a personal effect like a wink or a smile. Watching him dance, was a treat; not that I was going to say that aloud. That would just increase the amount of arrogance stuffed in his already about-to-burst head. _Argh!_

When the class ended, I angrily made my way back to where I had kept my bag. I took out my water bottle from it and drank half of its contents in a go, angry at how easily Potter had managed to do _everything._ While drinking, I saw the devil himself, walk forward, lean against the wall and grin at me.

I very unladylike-ly wiped my face with the back of my hand and narrowed my eyes at him. "What?"

"You dance well."

"Not better than _you_ ," I snapped back, pushing back the red strands that had escaped from my bun.

He frowned. "What are you so angry about? In case you haven't noticed, I was trying to compliment you," he said, bewildered.

"Well, thank you very much, Your Highness. But I really don't need your pity or sympathy for that matter."

"Who's giving you any sympathy?! I was trying to be nice. Chivalry and sympathy are not synonyms, Evans."

"I know my vocabulary, Potter. I don't need you to recite the thesaurus to me."

"I wouldn't if you hadn't misunderstood my comment."

"Do you want me to apologize to you, Potter? Well, save your breath, because I won't!"

 _James Potter is so infuriating!_ I picked up my bag and made my way out of the studio, slamming the door in the process. _How dare he pity me!_ I mean, how can anyone be so arrogant! That prat! He knows how wonderful he is so then why does he have to rub it in my face?! Pathetic!

Without turning back, I made my way to the washroom and quickly changed to my casuals - a plum coloured skirt and a black top. After washing my face and re-making my bun, I exited the building. I saw James Potter and co. walking in front of me. They were talking, or more like James was ranting.

"She is a nightmare! She won't even take a compliment properly. I don't know. It's as if the bitch has some age old grudge against me."

 _Nightmare. Bitch. Grudge._

Well, James Potter, you just gave me a pretty good reason to hold a grudge against you, might it not be age old.

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 **Did you like it? Did you hate it? Please review and let me know what you thought of it. Free cookies to anybody who does!**


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